Patchwork
by p-inkjeans
Summary: 10 drabbles fitting together to tell a story. EO.


**Disclaimer**: Not mine. Unfortunately.  
**A/N**: I decided to try something new, so please let me know what you think about the format, etc. Thanks to my two amazing betas for all the comments :).

-

I. "God, this is such a cliché," Olivia whispers, her lips curling into a smile against her partner's bare shoulder. She scrapes her fingertips across his chest, his skin glistening with sweat.

"What is?"

"This. Us. The snowstorm. The seedy motel with only a queen sized bed. It's like we're stuck in the middle of a badly written romance novel," she says, their naked forms beginning to shake with laughter.

_This is absurd_, she thinks, already beginning to regret in the silence that settles over them. _What the hell did we just do?_

But suddenly his hand moves to her chest, his thumb swiping across her nipple until it beads, causing all thoughts to cease. He shifts slightly so that he can kiss her, smiling against her lips when she moans into his mouth, pulling him closer. She hears his words, loud and clear.

_Not yet. We'll deal with it later._

-

II. "Elliot-"

"I really just want to be alone right now, Olivia," he tells her, remaining in his spot on the locker room bench, bent over with his face in his hands.

"I'm not going anywhere," she says firmly, her hand resting on his back. "Did you talk to IAB yet?"

"They took my gun," he answers, turning slightly to look at her. "You should go. Cragen already suspects something."

"Right now I'm more worried about you than about whether or not our relationship remains a secret."

"Liv, go. I'm fine."

"You just shot a guy, Elliot. You're not fine." She sighs, seeing the look on his face and knowing that arguing is useless. He's not going to talk, at least not yet. "Promise not to beat the shit out of a locker when I leave?"

The corners of his mouth turn up and he reaches over, squeezing her hand. "Promise."

-

III. "Don't you ever-"

"Olivia, I didn't-" he stops, realizing too late that he shouldn't have interrupted her. He can't believe that taking responsibility when Cragen started in on her for screwing up would piss her off this much. Especially since it was his fault to begin with.

"Elliot," she starts, her eyes burning with anger. But as they continue to glare at each other, he realizes that she no longer looks so much pissed off as…_turned on_?

Before he can react, she has pushed him into a kitchen chair, straddling him as her lips crash against his with anger and passion and lust.

"I thought you were mad at me." He grins, moaning softly as she unzips his jeans and her hands dip into his boxers.

"I am," she says, fighting a smile as she rocks her hips against his.

"Jesus, Liv. Remind me to piss you off more often…"

-

IV. "Can you hand me that wrench?" he asks, his head and upper body still hidden by the cupboard under her sink as he fixes the pipes. She doesn't even hear him as she watches, preoccupied by other thoughts.

It's three in the morning, but he hadn't hesitated for a second when she called him before offering to come over and fix the leak before it went through her floor and into the ceiling of the apartment below. She's never had a relationship like this before.

"Liv?" he asks when she still hasn't responded a few moments later. He pushes himself out from under the sink, looking up at her with a slightly amused look on his face. "Did you-"

"I love you," she says before she can stop herself. He grins, surprised. He never thought she would be the one to say it first. "I just wanted to tell you."

-

V. He watches her silently from the doorway. She stands in front of the bathroom mirror in only jeans and a white bra, the bandage fully visible. She winces as she tries to remove the gauze from her shoulder and he immediately moves toward her.

"Do you need some help?"

She hesitates, nods, and then sits down on the closed toilet seat. Carefully, gently, he removes the dressing the doctors had put on her shoulder before they left the hospital, his gaze never meeting hers. He sucks in a breath, gently touching the skin around the wound. "Jesus, Olivia." She can see the guilt he feels at seeing the gunshot wound that, had it not been for the perp's bad aim, could have killed her less than forty-eight hours before.

"Stop feeling guilty, Elliot. I would have gotten shot no matter who had my back. Even if it had been you."

-

VI. "Liv," he whispers, running his fingers through her hair. "Can you wake up for a second?"

She groans, opening one eye to look at him, kneeling on the floor next to their bed. She doesn't say a word, waiting for him to speak.

He remains silent, smiling softly as he takes in her appearance: his t-shirt and a pair of boxers, her hair tangled and still damp from her shower. "God you're beautiful."

"If you woke me up to try and seduce me at three in the morning I'm going to-"

"Will you marry me?" He hadn't planned on asking her like this, but he couldn't think of anything else to say. He'd just wanted to tell her he was home from work, but his plans for her favorite restaurant and their anniversary next week are long forgotten. From the look on her face, he knows that he nailed it.

-

VII. She loves the domestic moments, when she can pretend that they're just like any other couple, and that the complications in their lives don't exist. She especially loves nights with his kids, when they make dinner together and do the dishes while Dickie and Lizzie watch TV in the living room of their tiny apartment.

"What's so funny?" she asks, seeing him grin as she starts to hand him another plate to dry and put away.

His smile just broadens as he sets the dishtowel down and reaches over, brushing something out of her hair. "Soapsuds," he says, leaning in to kiss her, his lips touching hers for only a moment. He smiles, taking the plate from her and getting back to work. She looks down at her hand, at the ring that still feels new a year later.

She never thought she'd get used to being kissed like that.

-

VIII. Elliot's arms wrap around her, pulling her back against his chest as the water continues to beat down onto their skin. "Come here," he says, holding her tightly as he kisses her neck, just below her ear. She tries to stop the tears that she knows are falling, but it's useless and she only cries harder. "It's not your fault, Olivia."

"He took a bullet for me. How the hell am I supposed to live with that?" she asks, her voice breaking halfway through.

"And he never would have been able to live with himself if he hadn't," Elliot argues, drawing comforting circles on her naked form with his thumbs. "He thought of you as his daughter, you know? He wouldn't regret protecting you. He made that choice, Liv. It's not your fault."

She turns in his arms, her face now hidden in his shoulder. "Doesn't make this any easier."

-

IX. She lies on the bed next to him, waiting for the timer on her watch. Three minutes may seem like nothing, but right now, it feels like a lifetime. He smiles, seeing the anxiety written across her face and he kisses her gently. "Liv, either way, it's going to work out."

Before he has even finished speaking the words, her watch beeps and she looks at him with wide eyes. "I can't look."

"Do you want me to?" he asks gently. She nods and he gets up, walking to the bathroom.

"Elliot? Would you just tell me?" she asks, when he still hasn't spoken a few moments later. She holds her breath as he comes back into the bedroom, stopping just inside the doorway. His grin says it all. "I am?"

"No matter how much John whines, we are not naming it after him," he tells her, still grinning. "Okay?"

-

X. "Shhh. We want this to be a surprise, so be quiet."

Elliot's voice slowly wakes her, and she rolls over, seeing that the space next to her is empty. She can hear noises in the kitchen and looks at the clock, noting that her four-year-old son had given her an unexpected birthday present by not waking her at six a.m.

"Can I tell her now?" her son asks, and she quickly closes her eyes to fake sleep as footsteps come running towards her bedroom.

"Mommy!" Sam says in a loud whisper, his face right in front of hers. She opens her eyes, grinning when she notices the ninja costume that he has refused to take off in the two weeks following Halloween. Elliot stands in the doorway, carrying a tray with two waffles and a glass of orange juice. "Daddy and I made you eggos! I toasted 'em by myself!"

-

The End.


End file.
